Poetic Justice
by Sherrri
Summary: Matt embarrasses Mello at a mandatory poetry reading and a vicious prank war ensues. Matt x Mello.
1. The Rosy Fingers of Dawn

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

A/N: This is another story inspired by real life! I've been hesitant to post it because...I don't actually know why. Oh well. I think it will have four parts, and it won't be very long.

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Poetic Justice

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Chapter One: 

The Rosy Fingers of Dawn

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"Gah! Stupid, pointless crap!" Mello screamed as he slammed the bedroom door and threw his notebook violently onto his desk. Matt looked up from his computer.

"What's the matter?" He asked warily.

"I have to write _poetry_ for my English class! Poetry! And then I have to read it to people at this stupid… _poetry_ reading thing!" Mello shouted, clearly enraged at the prospect.

"That doesn't sound so hard…" Matt said in an attempt to mollify his volatile roommate. Actually, Matt kind of hated poetry, and Mello's assignment sounded nightmarish. Mello pursed his lips, crossed his arms, and stared at his English notebook.

"Then you do it." Mello said, looking up at him with a sudden charming smile. Matt inwardly cursed himself.

"Uh…I dunno…I've got a lot to do and…" Matt started. Mello's smile immediately vanished to be replaced by a dangerous glare.

"…I mean, yeah, sure, okay." Matt amended hastily.

"Good. You'd better get started then. The reading's tonight." Mello tossed his notebook and pen at Matt, who sighed.

"You're still going to be the one to read it though, right?" Matt asked. Mello rolled his eyes and nodded as if that were the stupidest question ever asked, which it might have been.

"Make sure the poem's not stupid." Mello commanded before leaving their room again. Matt sighed again, more loudly. Why did he let Mello push him around like this? It was perhaps due to some combination of fear and his desire to shag the blonde. But really, the other boy clearly didn't respect him for his compliance, so it was unlikely that it was helping on the latter front.

It was about time he tried standing up for himself instead. Besides, he felt a growing resentment for his friend, who pretended not to notice the way Matt felt about him. And there was no way he didn't notice; he was almost the smartest kid at Wammy House. Matt glared at the notebook paper in front of him, and suddenly, he had a brilliant and evil idea. He began writing.

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That evening, Matt and Mello made their way to the room where the reading would take place. Matt held the notebook in front of him and was frantically scribbling.

"Why haven't you finished it?" Mello screeched at him as they walked.

"I had a lot to do, like I said. Besides, it's almost finished, don't worry." Matt said. Mello frowned. They entered the room and chose seats near the back. It was a lot more crowded than Matt had expected. There were about fifty students and a good number of adults milling about the room.

A microphone stood in the front, and Matt was so very glad he didn't have to go up there. A short girl with frizzy hair and glasses stood at the microphone with a piece of paper in her hands, waiting for the crowd to get settled.

Matt was not looking forward to having to listen to other peoples' vapid poetry, which would necessarily be melodramatic and lame, given the age of the authors. Matt continued to scribble on his paper. Mello fidgeted nervously. When the room was quiet, the girl cleared her throat and began reading, a little too fast, or perhaps not fast enough.

"_The emptiness consumes my soul; there is nothing left of me; you were the meaning of my life, and now you are gone; I still remember the feel of your kiss on my lips; that softness…_" As she continued in that vein, Matt tuned her out and concentrated on his own poem.

"Is it done yet?" Mello whispered in his ear. Matt took a moment to enjoy Mello's proximity before answering.

"Almost." He whispered back. Mello turned away from him and folded his arms across his chest. The girl finished her poem and the teacher called the name of the next student: a freckly boy who approached the microphone with a blank expression.

"_On girls: Some are hot and some are not, but I will never understand them. Why, I ask? Some are…_" The poem continued, but Matt couldn't stand to listen anymore, and so continued writing instead. He glanced briefly at Mello and saw the blonde listening to the poem with his nose scrunched up in vague disgust at its badness.

"Yours had better not be like this." Mello whispered in Matt's ear. Matt blocked Mello from reading his poem over his shoulder, causing Mello to glare.

"It is nothing like that, I promise." Matt whispered truthfully. Mello returned his gaze to the front of the room. The next student, a fat boy who wore too much cologne, began reading.

"_Those long uneven lines, standing as patiently as if they were stretched outside the Oval or Villa Park, the crowns of hats, the sun on moustached archaic faces…_" Okay, this boy had plagiarized, and from the look on the teacher's face, she knew it.

Matt continued to write, mostly to keep Mello from reading his own poem beforehand. That would ruin the whole thing. Mello leaned over and whispered again.

"What a dumb poem to plagiarize. We actually studied it in this class at the beginning of the year. Anyway, it wouldn't even make sense written outside of its historical context…" Mello said. Matt nodded without looking up.

When the boy finished reading the poem, the teacher called on Mello to go next. Mello looked at Matt, who tore the paper out of the notebook, folded it, and handed it to him discreetly.

Mello made his way up to the microphone, unfolded the paper, and began reading.

"_The rosy fingers of dawn caress the cool cheeks of night as my love's cool fingers caress my rosy cheeks,_" Mello paused and shot a '_WTF_' kind of glance at Matt amidst the giggles of their peers. The teacher gestured for Mello to continue. He did so in a wavering voice that got gradually quieter and faster as he read on.

"_He deftly removes my clothing and I lay naked in the evening air, listening to the crickets chirp; his goggles hang around his neck and his red hair brushes across my neck and moves downward,_" Many of the other students were looking at Matt now, recognizing the description and giggling even louder, with some whispering breaking out around the room. Spots of color appeared on Mello's cheeks, but he continued.

"_His touch makes me quiver, pert pink nipples hardening, and then I am arching against his body; his palms slide along my smooth inner thighs and then between, and the striped sleeves of his shirt are soft where they brush against my naked knees; I moan wantonly and spread my legs wide, ready to take him in for the first time…_" At this point, Mello stopped reading, looking utterly humiliated.

He crumpled the paper in his hand and ran from the room, and the giggling became outright laughter and catcalling. Matt bit his lip. Perhaps he had taken that a bit too far. He stood up and left the classroom to talk to his friend, but when he got out into the hallway he couldn't find him.

He searched all the nearby classrooms and the bathroom before eventually returning to their own room. He found Mello there, already wearing his black pajamas and lying on his bed facing the wall. He was in a sort of fetal position, legs bent and arms folded with his hands tucked under his chin.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked.

"You could have just told me you didn't want to write it." Mello said in a quiet, hoarse voice. Matt immediately felt a strange throbbing of guilt in his chest, even though he still thought Mello deserved it, and Mello had certainly done worse things to him in the past.

"Yeah…I'm, uh…sorry, I guess. I only meant it as a joke." Matt said. Mello said nothing in response. Matt walked over to the edge of Mello's bed and was about to poke him in the side when Mello spoke.

"It's okay. It just hit a little close to home." Mello muttered. Matt furrowed his eyebrows.

"How so?" He asked. Mello sat up and turned to face Matt, and then grabbed his collar and pulled him close, slowly moving his face closer and gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. Matt could hardly believe this was really happening.

He closed his own eyes in anticipation of a kiss, only to feel Mello plant an incredibly chaste, mocking kiss on his cheek. Mello backed off immediately and cackled at the lustful look on Matt's face with an astonishing level of cruelty, then turned back around and lay down again.

"Goodnight. My payback begins tomorrow, so you'd better get some rest." Mello said in a casual voice that was somehow the most terrifying voice Matt had ever heard.

Matt stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds before leaving to get ready for bed. He wondered why he hadn't foreseen Mello's wrath when he'd written the poem; after all, excessive anger was kind of what Mello was known for.

When Matt returned from the bathroom, he was glad to find Mello asleep. He could only hope that Mello would either forget his vendetta by the following morning or decide to take mercy on him. He highly doubted either of these options was likely.

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A/N: Review please! Those three other kids who read poetry are based people from real life. Yes, a kid actually plagiarized that Philip Larkin poem even though we had studied it _in that very class_. Kids these days...


	2. Reverse Vengeance

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

A/N: Ha, this sucks. Oh well.

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Chapter Two: 

Reverse Vengeance

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The next morning, Matt rolled out of bed tiredly, not having slept at all in fear. He had not wanted to be asleep and helpless when the vengeful Mello woke up, but now he realized that his sleepiness would probably slow his mental acuity and reaction time to the point where it was almost worse.

He went to take a shower, turning the temperature way down at first in hopes of waking himself up. He ended up standing there under the water, half-asleep, for a very long time, and realized when he got out that it hadn't worked. His vision was still bleary and he needed coffee.

He was glad that the bedroom was empty of pretty blonde roommates upon his return, so he would be able to dress in peace. He spent about half an hour groping around in his and Mello's dresser drawers looking for his clothes before he realized they weren't there. And so it began.

Mello had started his revenge already, and Matt would have to go wandering the hallways in his towel until he found something else to put on, having already dropped his pajamas through the laundry chute.

Matt decided to freak Mello out by pretending it didn't bother him. He headed down to the cafeteria, clutching his towel very tightly at his hip. When he got there, most of the kids in the room turned to look at him and laughed.

Matt kept his expression carefully nonchalant, as if he had simply decided he didn't feel like going to the trouble of getting dressed that morning. He looked for Mello and saw a lone figure in a red hoodie with the hood pulled over enough to obscure his face, but it was obviously Mello because of the variety of chocolate-related foods that were on his tray.

Matt wondered if Mello was hiding from him or from all the people who had seen his poetry reading. He decided that Mello would have made more of an effort if it were the former, so he got his food and sat across from the blonde, who didn't look up from his chocolate pudding.

"Good morning Mello!" Matt exclaimed loudly in order to draw the attention to Mello instead of his towel-clad self. Mello still ignored him, but the kids at the surrounding tables immediately perked up even more, not having had much of a chance to make fun of Mello yet.

The extreme competitiveness of Wammy House had given birth to a sort of culture of cruelty among the children, in which kindness and tolerance were simply not valued the way they might have been elsewhere. As such, the prejudices common to kids their age were magnified within the school, and bullying was unchecked and frequent.

If Matt played this right, he could make it look like he was wearing the towel in order to tease Mello about the poem, which the other kids still thought Mello had written, and there would be no backlash against Matt for being mean to his friend.

"So, how do you like my outfit?" Matt said, smirking. Mello finally glanced up and then immediately looked back down at the table.

"You're wearing a towel." Mello stated, obviously wanting to be anywhere else as he realized Matt's plan of attack.

"Yeah, I did it as a gift to you! I thought you might appreciate it, since I heard your poem last night." Matt said, drawing widespread laughter from the audience. Mello pursed his lips and waited for the laughter to die down before speaking.

"You're a sick freak. You wrote that poem and you know it!" Mello said, but this would hardly derail Matt's plans at all. Matt laughed the comment off without addressing it, thus dismissing it as ridiculous.

"Oh, Mello; there's no point in denying how you feel about me. We all know you're gay now." Matt said. Mello looked up at him again, his eyes filled with some combination of confusion and betrayal, and then got up and left the cafeteria without a word, to be followed by more of the insults and laughter that he had experienced as he'd fled the poetry classroom the night before.

Matt was disturbed by the look that had been on Mello's face as he'd left, so he finished his food and coffee quickly in order to search for him. He found him outside on the otherwise empty playground. He was sitting on a swing and staring despondently at the ground. Matt went and sat on the swing next to him.

"You do recognize the irony of what you said in there." Mello stated. Matt did indeed, but he was slightly surprised to hear Mello admit it. After all, Mello had spent the better part of two years pretending to think Matt was straight, even after Matt came out to him and when Matt continually commented on the attractiveness of various boys.

The incident in the cafeteria had actually given Matt an interesting glimpse into one of the possible outcomes he'd considered when he first thought of coming out to Mello. He decided he actually would have preferred that reaction to the denial that Mello had slipped into. The lies had chafed at Matt somehow.

The poem he'd written was part of his ingenious plan: Mello either had to acknowledge Matt's feelings by admitting that Matt had written the poem, or he had to go through life at Wammy House with everyone thinking _he_ was gay.

Ah, poetic justice. Still, he hadn't been planning on becoming the leader of the homophobic bullies himself, and he felt a bit stupid about it, as it would only come back to bite him on the ass later.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Mello asked him. Matt frowned; hadn't it been the obvious counter to Mello's response.

"You took my clothes." He finally said. Mello didn't look at him.

"So?" Mello said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"So you should have expected this." Matt said.

"It was the appropriate payback for the poem, and then you had to go and make it backfire. Now I have to get even more vengeance." Mello said calmly, jumping off the swing and walking inside. Matt went after him, following him back to their room.

"But you don't even know why I did the poem thing in the first place!" Matt told him.

"Oh, you had a reason? What was it, pray tell? Were you mad at me for not letting you fuck me or something?" Mello said viciously. Matt paled. He felt the uncomfortable sensation of his rationalizations melting away. He realized that deep down, that was the reason he was angry at Mello, and that anger was hidden at the core of his reasoning. He still wouldn't admit that to Mello.

"No! Um…it was so you would, um…know that I'm gay…" Matt said, knowing how weak it sounded. He realized that he didn't really know how to articulate his problem with Mello. Mello gave him a look of disbelief.

"What?" Mello said confusedly.

"Yeah, I know I already told you, but you keep pretending I'm not! You're always ignoring me when I comment on it, and you keep telling me about girls you like…" Matt said, remembering how he had justified his anger previously. Mello suddenly looked angry.

"Okay, Matt! You're gay and you're in love with me or whatever! Excuse me for avoiding a subject that can only cause you pain! What exactly do you want me to do?" Mello shouted. Matt stared at the floor and didn't answer. He just wanted Mello to like him back, and Mello knew that, but saying it out loud would make it into an unsolveable problem in their friendship.

Mello looked at Matt with a dangerous thoughtful gleam in his eyes.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go plan some more vengeance." He said in a calm voice before leaving the room.

Matt continued to stare at the floor for a while after Mello was gone.

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A/N: Please review!


	3. Chaos Yawned

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

A/N: Okay, so I lied when I said I would update this soon/regularly. I am fail. But I will post the next/final chapter in the next few days, guaranteed. Seriously.

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Chapter Three:

Chaos Yawned

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Mello didn't return to their room until that evening. Matt had spent the rest of the day brooding and alternating between hating himself and feeling sorry for himself. When he saw the satisfied look on the returning Mello's face, he became afraid for himself.

"Mello? I'm really, really sorry about what I did. Can you just call off whatever you're planning?" He asked, knowing that it was probably hopeless. Mello just laughed.

"Don't be stupid, Matt." Mello said as he turned off the lights and got into bed. Matt was already in bed, and the only reason he was able to sleep that night was because he hadn't the night before.

When Matt woke up the next morning, Mello was gone again. Matt was worried, but at least he was wide-awake this time. He brought his clothes with him when he went to the shower, even though he didn't expect Mello to do the same thing twice.

When he was done with his shower, he returned to their room and found nothing out of place. Mello wasn't there, though, so Matt was wary as he walked into the cafeteria, and rightly so. He entered to the sound of a hundred laughing classmates, and the laughter grew louder when people noticed him.

He looked at himself and didn't see anything funny, so he looked around the room and saw that a video was being projected onto one of the walls. Upon closer inspection, the sound of laughter was drowned out by the rush of horror in his ears as he recognized that it was a video of himself in the shower. Surely Mello wouldn't have gone this far!

Video-Matt was whistling the original Zelda theme tune as he washed under his arms. In real life, Matt stood there, frozen in disbelief for a moment, then he felt a bit of relief that at least he wasn't wanking or anything in the tape.

He wondered where the adults were. Where was Roger? Shouldn't he have stopped the video? But of course, Mello would have thought of a way to divert the authorities before he did this. Finally, Matt ran over and turned the video off and ejected it, taking it with him as he fled the room.

Matt ran outside and sat against a brick wall on the other side of the building. Nobody would find him there, as very few of the Wammy kids ever went outside without being forced, and even then they stayed on the playground. He needed time to think.

When had Mello even taped him? He couldn't remember the last time he'd had the Zelda theme stuck in his head, so it couldn't have been today.

He decided he would ask Mello that when he saw him again. Which would be during Matt's vengeance. He'd been planning on letting Mello finish his vengeance and being done with it, but he couldn't let the blonde get away with something like this.

Both of Mello's pranks so far had involved the theme of nudity and showers, so Matt decided to continue in his own theme, which, ironically, was framing Mello as being gay.

The plan came to him in a flash of insight. He would create a fake diary in Mello's handwriting and show it to everyone. As soon as the idea popped into his head, it sounded like too much fun to pass up. He probably knew enough of Mello's secrets to make it fairly realistic, too.

He went back to his room sneakily, successfully avoiding his peers, and was glad to find it empty of Mellos. He dug around in his desk drawers until he found a nice empty notebook to use. Grabbing one of Mello's notebooks for handwriting samples, he left the room and went back to his spot outside so he could work in peace.

It wasn't hard to duplicate Mello's style. Forging notes to get out of class was one of Matt's many special skills, which Mello had enlisted often in the past. He could pretty much do anyone's handwriting after only seeing it once, and he'd seen Mello's about a billion times.

He began work on the fake diary, trying to make it sound semi-realistic and believable, but it was so much fun to make it outrageous that he had to tear out pages and start over a few times. It wouldn't work if the other kids could tell Matt had made it up.

Chuckling to himself, Matt wove a heart-wrenching tale of a young blonde boy who was tormented by his unrequited love for his sexy redheaded roommate and even went so far as to secretly film him in the shower so he could wank off to it later.

Said blonde boy was also a bundle of insecurities, and here Matt found himself writing things that he suspected or knew were true about Mello: self-loathing anger about never beating Near no matter how hard he tried, fear of failure and abandonment, and a whole host of other things that Mello had actually confided in Matt over the years.

Matt reasoned that it would hardly be embarrassing for Mello at all if it weren't at least partly true. Sure, the other kids would laugh at him, but it wouldn't hurt him. And Matt needed to hurt him a little if he wanted to get a proper revenge.

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It took him about two hours to finish the diary, and he set off for the cafeteria just in time for lunch. When he got there, he went up to one of the kids who had been the meanest to Mello after the poetry incident and set the diary next to him on the bench without him noticing.

He watched from a distance as the kid spotted the book and looked inside. Soon he was passing it around the table and people were laughing as they read bits of it out loud. Matt smirked, his work done, and went to get some food. He found Mello at a different table and sat across from him while he waited.

"Hi, Matt. How are you?" Mello asked, looking smug because of his earlier prank.

"Well, I had a crappy morning, but I think things will ultimately turn out my way," Matt said nonchalantly. Mello narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. So, why exactly did you film me in the shower? It wasn't any time recently, so you didn't do it just for the vengeance." Matt said. Mello scowled at him and busied himself with taking a large bite out of his brownie so he couldn't answer. Matt quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, but before he could get an answer, he heard the sweet sound of his latest prank coming to fruition.

"Hey Mello, lose something?" Said a voice from somewhere behind Matt. He turned and saw a boy holding up the fake diary while nearly everyone in the cafeteria looked on and giggled. Mello looked at the diary and slowly shook his head, seeming confused. Fortunately for Matt, nobody noticed the lack of recognition in Mello's eyes. The boy tossed the journal to Mello, who caught it and started reading it. A few seconds in, Mello started shaking his head.

"This isn't mine. I didn't write it." Mello said.

"Nice try, Mello! It's in your handwriting." Said another kid. Mello shot a glare at Matt, but didn't reveal his forgery skills, as that would limit his own ability to skip class in the future.

Instead he picked up the diary and left the cafeteria to a chorus of laughter yet again. Matt finished his lunch without a hint of guilt. Mello needed to learn that he couldn't just push Matt around, even if Matt was in love with him.

When Matt was done with his lunch, he returned to his room, where he found Mello lying facedown on his bed with his head in his arms and the diary open next to him.

Upon moving closer, Matt was completely horrified to hear the sound of muffled sobs. Mello didn't seem to have heard him come in, so he could probably escape, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the blonde like this. He walked up to the bed.

"Mello?" He said, and Mello stopped crying immediately and turned to face him, wiping his eyes hurriedly.

"What?" Mello snapped.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked. Mello glared at him. His eyes were red and puffy.

"You told them about my parents." Mello said. Matt frowned. He vaguely remembered mentioning Mello's parents, but he hadn't thought it was a big deal. They were in an orphanage, and most people had bad stories about their families. Mello's had seemed just like any other, if a little more violent than most. It hadn't even been one of the things Matt was expecting Mello to be angry about.

"So?" Matt asked.

"So you were the only person I ever told about them and now you've told everyone!" Mello shouted. Matt's eyes widened.

"I didn't know it was a secret. Shit, Mello, I'm sorry." Matt said. Mello sighed.

"Whatever. I'm tired of this stupid game." Mello said, staring at the bedspread with his red-rimmed eyes. Matt felt horrible. The prank war had gotten rather out of hand; actually, it had never really been _in_ hand. And since Matt had started it, he supposed it was his responsibility.

"I'll make it up to you, okay? I'll do whatever you want," Matt said. Mello looked back up at him thoughtfully, sniffling, then an evil smile slowly spread across his face, and Matt could already tell he was going to regret that offer.

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A/N: You should review, it's a nice thing to do. Whoa, that rhymed and was lame.


	4. Nature Will Out

Disclaimer: I still do not own Death Note.

A/N: Here is the end. It is very short. I don't think it qualifies as an actual chapter.

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Chapter Four: 

Nature Will Out

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Mello looked at him expectantly and made an impatient gesture with the hand that wasn't holding a chocolate pudding cup. Matt sighed and slowly climbed up to stand on the table, pulling a very old piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it.

They were in the cafeteria at the busiest part of the lunch hour, and the steady background noise of the other kids diminished rather quickly in anticipation of whatever Matt was going to do that day. He'd been very entertaining for the last few days, after all.

This time however, the joke was on him, and thanks to his stupid conscience, he was a willing participant in it. He cleared his throat and began to read.

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"_I really like Mello,_

_his hair is yellow,_

_he wears clothes that are black,_

_he likes chocolate as a snack,_

_he is very smart_

_and is good at art_

_he came from another city_

_I think he is very pretty_

_I am glad he is here,_

_He is better than Near._"

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It was a poem Matt had written when he was six and Mello had just arrived at Wammy House. He had promptly forgotten about it afterward, but apparently Mello hadn't.

That morning, Mello had swaggered up to Matt and pressed the old sheet of paper into his hand with a smirk and told him what he needed to do to make up for the last prank.

Apparently, Wammy House kept all of their old schoolwork in files to be analyzed later if need be (which was a little disturbing), so Mello had simply gone to their old teacher and asked for it.

Matt was actually relieved. As far as public humiliation went, this was fairly minor. True, most of the kids probably didn't know he had written it when he was little, so they might think he was just a really bad poet, but somehow he would survive.

When he finished reading the poem, some of the kids laughed while others applauded jokingly. Matt took an exaggerated bow and jumped off the table to sit back down again, handing the paper to Mello. Everyone slowly returned to whatever they were doing before, and Mello gave Matt a strange smile without really meeting his eyes.

After a few moments, Mello finished his pudding and quickly left the cafeteria. Matt watched him leave curiously. What was the matter now? He scarfed down the last few bites of his own, much healthier lunch and followed Mello back to their room.

He found Mello sitting on his bed, staring at the poem. He was clearly fighting a smile.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked. Mello laughed and looked up at him.

"I love you," he said, the smile winning and spreading across his face. Matt stared at the blonde seriously for a moment before laughing with him and sitting next to him on the bed. Their laughter soon subsided, but Mello was still smiling. Suddenly, he stood up.

"You're still the biggest asshole in the entire world. And I have to go to the bathroom," he announced.

"Good to know," Matt said. Mello ignored his comment and made his way to the door, only to pause thoughtfully with his hand on the doorknob.

Then, in one smooth, fast, hawk-like swoop, Mello turned around and rushed back to give him a sloppy, glorious kiss on the mouth, which Matt's mind was unable to process until Mello was already out the door. Alone in the room, he reached up and touched his lips in shock, then smiled. Poetry was awesome.

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The End.

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A/N: Reviewing is also awesome. Trust me, I know this from experience. Fun fact: Matt's poem is stylistically based on the ones my little brother used to write when he was a kid, which I just found a little book of and went 'Aw'.


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